The Christian camp where my husband, Frank, is operations director is open year-round. It’s a big job. Sometimes it takes all five of us—Frank, me and our three sons—to keep it going. We host all kinds of groups. Who wouldn’t want to spend time in a lake house, surrounded by 78 acres of rolling hills? It’s a relaxing getaway for our guests.
For Frank and me, it’s hard work. Especially during the summer, when we run our own children’s camp. In the evenings, we’re lucky if we manage an “I love you” before falling asleep.
Yet somehow, after 20 years, we’re as close as ever. How do we do it? The answer lies in six simple words: “Meet me at the golf cart.”
The golf cart came to us our very first summer at the camp. There was so much to do and so much to learn. There was barely time for a quick hug before we had to go off in different directions—sometimes miles away from each other. Frank and I were working together every day, yet I’d never felt so distant from him.
“Still, the grounds are so beautiful,” I told a good friend one day, when I’d slipped away for a quick phone call. “It’s worth it.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” my friend said. “I spent summers at that very camp. There’s just something so peaceful about it. It’s my absolute favorite place on earth.”
After a pause, my friend asked, “Tell me, how is your husband getting around such a big place?”
“Well, he has the camp’s old pickup,” I said with a laugh. “But that truck is not even roadworthy. He’s mostly getting around on foot.”
A few weeks later, my friend sent us the golf cart. Frank and I no longer had to walk miles every day. When we needed to see to something on the grounds, we just hopped in the cart and zipped off. We were still busy from morning till night, but at least we weren’t quite so exhausted.
One day, I went to Frank with a question about a food delivery. I wasn’t the only one who needed his attention. He was surrounded by campers and counselors. Even one of our sons had something to ask him. Frank and I would never get enough time to have an actual conversation. Then I got an idea. “Hey, babe,” I said, “let’s grab the golf cart.”
Frank smiled, immediately understanding my meaning.
“Sorry, guys,” he said, “but we need to run an errand.”
We climbed into the cart. “Where do we go?” he asked.
“Somewhere nobody will be waiting for us,” I said.
Frank drove us up to the top of a hill. By the time we got there, we’d already worked out the delivery question, so he and I just sat there quietly for a long moment and looked out at the grounds.
“There really is something so peaceful about this place,” I said. “When you get a chance to enjoy it, that is.”
“From now on,” Frank said, “this spot will be our place. Just for you and me. Whenever one of us needs it, just say the word and we’ll get in the golf cart and go.”
A few minutes later, we drove down the hill and back to our busy lives. But those few minutes changed everything. It wasn’t just the beautiful view. It was knowing that, no matter how busy we got, we could find a minute for each other.
All I had to do was lean over and whisper in Frank’s ear, “Meet me at the golf cart.”
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